


stuck in last night

by iihappydaysii



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Bottom Phil, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sex, Tour Fic, top dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 08:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: phil can't get his mind off last night





	stuck in last night

Phil cant get last night off his mind. He’s trying. He’s trying to get done what he needs to, trying to rise to the occasion of his responsibilities. But he’s not really here. He’s stuck in last night.

He can still feel the wall against his bare back, can still feel the jut of Dan’s hip bones into the softness of his thighs, can still feel Dan’s warm mouth on his neck, licking and kissing, but without the kind of force that would leave behind marks.

They learned the limit of each other’s skin a long time ago, learned how to leave no evidence of this except for with each other. And the evidence is the way Phil is only half here as he tries to get ready for their show, tries to hear the voices of the people around him fully, but he doesn’t and he’s glad that Dan is there to hear them instead. Because the rest of Phil is still clinging to Dan as Dan holds him up against the hotel wall. He can see the fire escape information on the door near him, but it’s blurred and out of focus because Dan’s body is a hard line against his, holding him up, rutting against him. Moving him.

They can’t fuck this way. Dan’s stronger than he used to be, but not to hold Phil up for _that_ long. He’s already beginning to slip.

Tonight, there’s not that long until the show starts, until Phil has to move this body that’s still aching in places he can’t seem to forget about, doesn’t want to forget about, onto a stage where people are going to watch him—them—do the thing that they do together that isn’t the thing that they do together behind closed doors.

That thing that keeps him out of time, that keeps puling him back to last night to _baby. gotta set you down, there you go, turn around, Phil._ To Dan’s large hands on his hips, slipping around to the button on his jeans and just popping it open. To Dan tugging and tugging, on Phil’s jeans and his pants until they both fall around his knees. Even now, Phil can still feel the thrill that moves through him when that happens. Even now, he can still hear Dan’s _fuck, baby, I want you_ and feel the slide of Dan’s thick fingers between his cheeks.

He thinks Dan’s going to fuck him standing against the wall, fuck him with Phil’s face pressed to the textured wallpaper, but he doesn’t. Dan kneels down and licks him there. _There._ Where there’s more nerve endings than it seems like there should be, where it’s intimate and personal, where Phil _really_ wants it.

And Dan is good at this. He good at giving Phil this, good at giving Phil head too. Good at fucking and being fucked, and tonight Phil knows where this is headed. Knows Dan’s about to top him and Phil loves when Dan tops him. Loves to feel Dan over him, or behind him, whatever, but _inside_ him. Loves it. Loves Dan.

He’s waiting backstage with Dan, who’s just tucked into his cell phone, a distant look on his face, a _normal_ look on his face. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking what Phil is thinking right now because, to the outside world, Phil looks perfectly fine right now. Looks present. But nothing could be farther from the truth.

Phil isn’t here. Phil is being laid back on the bed. Phil is watching Dan tug down his own jeans, his own pants, Phil is watching him stroke his cock. Watching a pearl drip out of the slit. He’s feeling Dan kiss him, feeling Dan move over him and press Phil’s head to the pillows with the force of a kiss.

Thankfully, the lube is sitting on the nightstand because they always take it out of Dan’s suitcase when they get to a new room. They always take it out because almost every day they fuck or wank or get off on each other’s fingers.

Phil is watching those fingers now—the half of him that’s backstage—watching how they gracefully move across his phone screen and remembering how they’d felt slick and wet pushing inside him, stretching him open, how they’d felt rubbing over his prostate.

He whines when Dan touches him like that two fingers or three, moving around inside him, finding the places and the movements that make him whimper and whine and make Dan reply with _shh, i’ve got you._

After all these years, it still feels weird when Dan pulls out his fingers or his cock or occasionally a dildo. But that strangeness is quickly soothed with Dan’s tongue and lips, with wet murmured noises against his sensitive skin. Then, Dan settling back, lifting Phil’s hips onto his thighs and lining himself up.

Phil loves that sight. Dan naked and flushed, his hair a little damp and his curls falling down over his forehead. Loves the way Dan’s big hand looks on his cock, loves the way it looks as he strokes it, sliding the foreskin back and forth.

Phil’s sitting on this uncomfortable sofa, wishing he was in that bed again, wishing he was feeling Dan’s slow thrust into him again and hearing the deep, labored breathing of Dan desperately trying to hold himself together while he sinks deep into Phil. It feels good to be stretched out like that, to be taken like that, and there aren’t really words to convey it he thinks, but he’s figured poets have tried and failed before so who is he to even make an attempt?

Dan’s mouth is on his again and Phil doesn’t really remember what it’s like to kiss someone who isn’t Dan and he doesn’t really care to. This is everything. These are the lips and the tongue and the teeth that spell out the rest of his life. It’s the truth. Dan’s kisses are the best kind of truth.

Phil wonders, as he sits here, if Dan notices that he’s staring at him, that he’s thinking about him naked and fucking. That he’s remembered the night before as Dan kissed him and—f _uck it_ —made love to him in that perfect rhythm, not too quick, but forceful and deep in just the way he knows Phil likes it. Because Phil likes to feel it the next day, like he’s feeling it now.

And it’s good—so damn good—when he finally comes with Dan’s name in his mouth and he’s squeezing around Dan’s cock as he falls apart, grappling at his back. It’s even better when Dan finishes inside him, when he’s grunting and gasping and grabbing at the mattress and swallowing his own sounds with another kiss to Phil’s lips.

Phil wonders if he’s blushing because he feels like he’s blushing but he can’t see for himself. He hopes he’s not because they don’t have long before they have to get back out there again. Before Phil needs to fully surface into the present. And he thinks he can do it now, can be here in his skin with his feet on the floor because Dan is here too, in his skin, feet on the floor. And it’s not like it’s the last time, it’s not like he has to stay stuck in last night, because there’s going to be tonight and the night after that and the night after that, after that, after that.


End file.
